Salt, Silver, and Kryptonite
by Kagirinai-Eternal
Summary: HIATUS: Through a rather routine series of events, the Winchester brothers find themselves in the idyllic town of Smallville and learn that it could be the territory of creatures, and a Hunter, unlike any they've met before.
1. October, 1989 & November, 2005

Title: Salt, Silver, and Kryptonite

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Clark Kent, other _Smallville_ and _Supernatural_ characters.

Rating: T

Genre: Suspense/Horror/Mystery

Summary: Through a rather routine series of events, the Winchester brothers find themselves in the idyllic town of Smallville and both have very different opinions of the "Meteor Capital of the World". While there, they learn that the town isn't quite as Rockwell-ian as it seems on the surface and could be the territory of creatures, and a Hunter, unlike any they've met before.

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Supernatural or any characters therein.**_

_Author's Notes/Warnings: This is set concretely during the first season of Supernatural, but the timeline regarding Smallville is a fluctuating, compaction of the events in seasons five, six, and maybe early seven. Will mostly be Winchester POV for reasons yet unrevealed to me by the Muses._

_Salt, silver, and holy water…the Holy Trinity of hunting._

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_**October, 1989**_

_**-Smallville, Kansas-**_

"Dean, stay inside the room, keep the door locked, and –"

"Look out for Sammy. Yes'ir." Ten year old Dean Winchester looked up into the face of his father. "But do we really need to stay inside? You said yourself this thing only comes out at night."

"Dean, I don't want either of you to get hurt."

"C'mon, Dad. The town's called _Small_ville. What could happen? We'll be careful, I swear."

John smirked. Normally, Dean wouldn't push the issue so hard, but he had a bad case of cabin fever. From the way Sam was bouncing in the corner, pretending not to listen with poorly constrained hope, the man knew his younger son was just as stir crazy. He _had_ been keeping them cooped up lately. "Alright, but I want you to stay in sight of the motel and both of you better have silver, salt, and holy water. You book it back here at the first sign of trouble and I want this door locked and salted before the sun goes down, you understand?"

Dean smiled. "Yes'ir! Thanks, Dad."

The elder Winchester returned the smile weakly, glancing back over his shoulder as he disappeared through the doorway. Once he was gone, Dean grabbed up his jacket. "C'mon, Sammy!" he encouraged, shoving things in his pockets and securing his knife on his belt. When Sam had copied the preparations, both boys ran out into the fall sunshine, youthful joy appearing on their too-matured faces.

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"C'mon, Sam. Just be the stupid monster."

"I'm _always_ the monster," Sam complained, grabbing unsuccessfully at the toy pistol Dean had swiped from a five-and-dime a while back. "Why do you always get to be the Hunter?"

"Because I'm older," Dean answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's not fair!" Sam balled his fist. "Rock-paper-scissors."

Both boys threw their hands and Sam grabbed the fluorescent gun triumphantly, shoving a foam dart down its barrel. "Always with the scissors, Dean."

"Shut up and cover your eyes."

After a cautious look around, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and started counting. Dean's gaze swept the empty field before he sprinting soundlessly towards the irrigation ditch, hiding on its slope.

"One hundred!" Sam's voice hollered. Dean snuggled closer to the ground, keeping his eyes on the top of the ridge so he could spot his brother's approach. "Dean Winchester wears girls' underwear!"

"I do not!" Dean countered, standing up. Something struck his ear and he glanced down. The bright dart rested at his feet. "Damnit, Sammy; that was dirty."

"No such thing." Sam was perched on the edge of the ditch a few feet away, grinning like a loon. "It's your own fault for falling for it."

"Geek."

"Jerk."

"Dude, I'm so bored of this. Smallville sucks."

Sam nodded his agreement. "I guess we just go back to the room and wait for Dad, then?"

"Yeah. And if we hurry, we can catch the farm report!" Dean's voice was rich with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Let's go, Sam."

"Hey, Dean?"

"What?"

"I think maybe we should run."

"What? Why?" Dean turned and followed Sam's gaze skyward, his eyes growing to twice their size. Panicking, he grabbed his brother's arm. "You're right for once. Run, Sammy!"

Sam didn't have much choice with Dean dragging him like a piece of rope. His legs pumped furiously to keep up with his brother's longer, adrenaline-fueled strides, but his eyes stayed fixed on the growing ball of fire that streaked across the sky, eyeing the boys hungrily. He could see that more followed behind it.

The first meteor struck behind them, the force of the impact enough to send them crashing to the ground. Spitting a mouthful of dirt, Dean shoved to his feet, his fingers sill clenched around Sam's scrawny bicep, and continued their flight. Again they were knocked down, this time by a crater appearing just in front of them.

"_Come_ on!" Dean seethed, wheeling as a third boulder fell at them. The momentum of the maneuver was too great and he stumbled, dragging them both to the ground again. As heaven pelted more stone and fire at the planet known as Earth, Dean used himself as a shield for his brother. "It'll be okay, Sammy," he assured over the continuous spray of dirt that rained on them. "I promised to-" He was cut off as a dislodged rock struck the back of his head, sending him into unconsciousness.

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Even at the tender age of six, not much scared Sam, but at that moment, he was terrified. The world was falling to pieces around him and there was nothing he could do about it. He was going to die. Dean was going to die. And it was all his fault; he'd asked Dean to convince their father to let them go outside.

Then, just as quickly as the apocalypse had started, it fell silent, smoke the only sign of its visit. With effort, Sam pushed Dean's unconscious body off him, glad that his brother couldn't mock his frightened tears. Sitting up, he glanced around, suddenly recoiling in shock.

Scorched earth stretched around them, steaming where the meteors had sunk into the loose soil, and there, in a pile of dirt and melted pebbles, sat a toddler, smiling over his shoulder at them, oblivious to the heat of his chosen seat.

Both boys stared at each other, Sam's mouth agape, the toddler's upturned in that ever-present, secretively clueless smile that made Sam uncomfortable. "What are you?" he demanded.

Instead of answering, the younger boy looked towards some far off noise, rising to toddle towards it. Sam made a move to follow, flinching as a blinding light surged around him. His mind went blank and all he saw were a small pair of galaxy-hued eyes before he too fell unconscious, collapsing beside Dean.

The next time he opened his eyes, darkness was zipping by the windows of the Impala and his brain felt fuzzy. He could not remember what he'd been doing or how he got there. Shrugging, he leaned against the door and returned to his slumber. It probably wasn't important.

_**November, 2005**_

_**-Stanford, California-**_

Sam watched with dull eyes as the fire crew sorted unceremoniously through what remained of his "normal" life, showing respect only for the little segment roped off with yellow tape. He didn't care; all that had mattered to him was now a pile of ash. The acrid scent of burned flesh poisoned the air and he noticed vaguely that he wasn't bothered by it. All those years away from hunting and still he was used to the smell of a burning person. God, he was a monster.

"Hey, Earth to Sammy!"

Sam turned a bland gaze to his brother. "Don't call me Sammy."

"Whatever, dude. So, you just gonna stand there being all angsty like some douchebag, or are we gonna go find the son of a bitch that did this?"

"Yeah." Sam's voice was sedate.

"That's the spirit. Oh, but when we do find the bastard, you gotta let me get my licks in." Dean pulled the keys from his pocket. "Y'know, I've been workin' on my right hook so I can-"

"Dean."

Dean paused, looking over the roof of the Impala at Sam. "What?"

"I'm driving."

The elder Winchester looked torn for an instant before he grinned. "Yeah; sure thing." He tossed the keys over and traded places. "It's not like you ran her through a house or anything," he muttered under his breath, sliding into the passenger seat as the engine roared to life.

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_**Author's Note: There you go, a nice little foundation. Now, if you want to help me build this story, leave a review, especially if it has the types of monsters and/or Krypto-freaks you'd like to see. Neither have to be canon, though I will not be using monsters that Sam and Dean have not seen or heard of prior to John's reappearance in season one. So, no vampires, wraiths, leviathans, or Jefferson-starships. Sorry, guys. Pretty much anything else is acceptable.**_


	2. January 20, 2006

Title: Salt, Silver, and Kryptonite

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Clark Kent, other _Smallville_ and _Supernatural_ characters.

Rating: T

Genre: Suspense/Horror/Mystery

Summary: Through a rather routine series of events, the Winchester brothers find themselves in the idyllic town of Smallville and both have very different opinions of the "Meteor Capital of the World". While there, they learn that the town isn't quite as Rockwell-ian as it seems on the surface and could be the territory of creatures, and a Hunter, unlike any they've met before.

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Supernatural or any characters therein.**_

_Author's Notes/Warnings: This is set concretely during the first season of Supernatural, but the timeline regarding Smallville is a fluctuating, compaction of the events in seasons five, six, and maybe early seven. Will mostly be Winchester POV for reasons yet unrevealed to me by the Muses._

_Wood chipper beats damn near everything._

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_**January 20, 2006**_

_**-Outside Edge City, Kansas-**_

_** -1126 Hours-**_

"Sammy, let's go! Cops'll be here any minute!" Dean was a blur of motion as he tossed gear into the trunk: salt, gasoline, flamethrowers, flares. After that wendigo in Colorado, he had found a new respect for the bulky guns and carried one whenever he was in the woods. They were surprisingly useful. Cross-country skiers, however, were another matter entirely, especially the couple who'd run screaming when they found him putting the deep-fry on a yuki-onna. "Sam!"

As he yelled, Sam came trudging from the trees, his hands held close to his body. Each step sank him into the knee-deep snow and he stumbled, slamming heavily against the Impala.

"Dude, watch the car!"

"Dean, I need a doctor. There's a hospital back in town."

"Are you crazy? We can't go back. We just iced the friendly, neighborhood killer snow woman and were caught by Mr. and Mrs. Claus. I'll patch you up once we've put this place in our rearview." Sam glared at Dean's poor attempts at jokes and held up his fingers. Shades of ugly purple dappled the joints. "You shouldn't eat strange berries, Sammy."

Sam gave a quick half-smile, irritated at his brother's lack of seriousness. "It's frostbite, Dean. I could lose my fingers."

"Well, that's no good. I mean, you're goofy-looking enough."

"Dude, you're a jerk." Sam fumbled with the door and clambered into the car, sticking his dying fingers in his armpits. "Can we just go?"

"As you wish, Your Whiness." Snow sprayed up from the tires as Dean pulled onto the road. Blindly, he fished alongside his seat, pulling out a half empty bottle of whiskey. "There's a town about fifty miles up the road. You're gonna have to self-medicate until then."

"This isn't funny, Dean."

Dean chuckled over the roar of the engine. "Yeah, it kinda is."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

_**January 20, 2006**_

_**-Smallville, Kansas-**_

_** -1704 Hours-**_

Dean revved the engine, smirking as appreciative glances fell on the Impala. "Y'know what, Sam? I think I like this town. Quiet, peaceful, and the people know a beautiful car when they see one." He leaned forward and patted the dash. "Ain't that right, Baby?"

"Hey, Dean? Haven't we been here before?"

"No chance. You really think I'd drag you to a place where we'd done a job? I'm not suicidal. Smallville's the next frontier, boldly going where no Winchester's gone before."

Sam peered out the window, squinting at the buildings that rolled by as they drove into the heart of the town. "You sure? Maybe it was with Dad, when we were kids?"

"Yeah, right. Dad avoids Kansas like the plague; always has. He'd've passed any jobs to Caleb or Bobby."

"I'm telling you, Dean. This place seems really familiar."

"Hey, maybe it's your psychic thing. Maybe something's supposed to happen here."

Sam shook his head, tangling bandaged fingers in his hair. "I haven't had any visions or headaches, but I guess it's possible. We should check it out at least."

"Good call." Dean pulled to the side of the road and killed the engine. Without another word, he got out and started into a building. Frantically, Sam rolled down his window.

"Dude, where are you going?"

Dean turned, a manic grin on his face, and pointed upwards. "Pie."

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Dean's hand hovered over his hidden gun as he walked into the renovated theater and his gaze swept the area. Pacified at the lack of threat, he relaxed before he could attract any attention, striding to the only empty table. Sam joined him a moment later.

"Pretty cozy place they've got here, huh, Sammy?"

"Yeah, cozy's one word for it." Sam was still wary, his sharp eyes continually scanning the building. Most of the patrons weren't paying attention to anything beyond their friends and lattes, but he noticed one girl in the opposite corner staring at them surreptitiously, her fingers texting furiously. "Dean-"

"I'll have black coffee and surprise me on the pie, okay, sweetheart?"

Sam looked up in time to see a waitress roll her eyes and look at him expectantly. "Oh, um…just coffee, please. Dean, that girl's been staring at us since we walked in."

"Is she hot?" Dean asked, picking up a fork as his pie was placed in front of him. "Actually, first question; is she legal?"

"Dude, seriously?"

"Hell, yeah." Dean shoveled half the pie into his mouth, his face twisting. "My God, this is freakin' amazing! It's like sex for you tastebuds."

Sam pushed his coffee away with a grimace, an image of Dean nailing a Rockette dressed as pie imprinting itself in his mind. "That's disgusting," he remarked, resisting the urge to gouge through his eyes and into his brain. Dean smirked and raised his fork again. It clattered to the plate as he was yanked from his chair and slammed against a nearby pillar.

"What're you doing here, Jason?"

Dean blinked dumbly at the man who was slightly younger and shorter than Sam, still trying to catch up with the surprise of being jumped. "Well, hello there. Nice to meet you. My name isn't Jason and you've obviously mistaken me for some other incredibly handsome individual."

"Don't lie!" The man bounced him against the column and the air rushed from his lungs.

"Geez, what've they been feedin' you?" he wheezed. "Hey, how 'bout some help, Sammy?"

"I'd love to, but, uh, I'm a little busy at the moment.

Dean turned his head, keeping his enraged captor in his periphery, dismay crossing his features. Sam was standing a few feet away, his hands cuffed together behind his back. "Son of a bitch!" Dean complained as a blonde woman stepped forward, clad in the brown uniform of county law enforcement.

"Why don't you put the nice man down, Mr. Kent, and we can all go talk through this at the station."

The hold on Dean released reluctantly and he slumped to the floor, his back sore from being used as a battering ram. The next minute, he was pulled to his feet, joining his brother and Mr. Kent in handcuffs.

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_**Author's Note: What's a good Supernatural fic without the bitch-jerk routine, I ask? Non-existent, I answer. But I'll try not to use it too frequently. I'm still looking for the monsters and/or Krypto-freaks you'd like to see and I won't know if you don't tell me. Neither have to be canon, though I will not be using monsters that Sam and Dean have not seen or heard of prior to John's reappearance in season one. So, no vampires, wraiths, leviathans, or Jefferson-starships. Sorry, guys. Pretty much anything else is acceptable. I'm not sure who Caleb is, but I know he's mentioned as one of John's friends at least once, and this is probably all you'll see of Bobby in this story, unless there is a massive demand for idgit-ization. Anywho…please review, since you've probably already read it if you're this far into the ending author's note.**_


	3. January 20, 2006 Part II

Title: Salt, Silver, and Kryptonite

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Clark Kent, other _Smallville_ and _Supernatural_ characters.

Rating: T

Genre: Suspense/Horror/Mystery

Summary: Through a rather routine series of events, the Winchester brothers find themselves in the idyllic town of Smallville and both have very different opinions of the "Meteor Capital of the World". While there, they learn that the town isn't quite as Rockwell-ian as it seems on the surface and could be the territory of creatures, and a Hunter, unlike any they've met before.

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville, Supernatural or any characters therein.**_

_Author's Notes/Warnings: This is set concretely during the first season of Supernatural, but the timeline regarding Smallville is a fluctuating, compaction of the events in seasons five, six, and maybe early seven. Will mostly be Winchester POV for reasons yet unrevealed to me by the Muses._

_When all else fails, sucker punch the fucker._

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_**January 20, 2006**_

_**-Lowell County Detention Center-**_

_** -2046 Hours-**_

Dean rattled the cell door then patted down his pockets before peering through the keyhole and grumbling inaudibly. Behind him, Sam bounced his head against the wall, stifling a yawn. "Dean, face it; we're stuck here for now."

Dean fidgeted, his fingers tightening around the bars. His foot tapped anxiously. "Don't stare at me when I'm naked!" he finally snapped.

"Dude, no one's staring and you're not naked."

"Well, it feels like it. She took everything, man."

"So she's a good sheriff. At least that's all we had; anything else and we'd be in real trouble."

"She took my gun, Sammy."

"I know."

"And my pocket knife."

"Mhmm."

"And my switchblade."

"Yup."

"And my lockpick."

"Both of them."

"And your stuff too."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"You got a bobby pin?"

Sam rolled his eyes and glared at his brother. "Really, Dean?"

"What?"

"Why the hell would I have a bobby pin?"

"Because you're a girl. Give me a hard question." Dean grinned and ducked out of the way when Sam chucked the cell's lumpy pillow at him. It struck the bars with a discomforting clanking that made the elder Winchester frown. "We gotta get outta here, man, before I start climbing the walls."

Sam sighed and stretched out on the mattress that was just as hard as the discarded pillow. Even though it was a simple case of mistaken identity, at least there was a reason Dean was in here. As for himself, he hadn't done anything and didn't look like anybody; there were no legitimate grounds to hold him. But he doubted that the sheriff cared, so he was stuck for the time being. "They can't hold us much longer, unless you actually are this Jason Teague person." His voice held more confidence than he felt. Of course Dean's fingerprints wouldn't match Teague's, but there was a certain dead shapeshifter in St. Louis that might cause some problems.

"Or if they hit on that 'shifter's prints." Dean vocalized Sam's fears, causing the younger man to look at him. And here he was supposed to be the psychic one.

"They won't."

_**January 20, 2006**_

_**-Metropolis, Kansas-**_

_** -2128 Hours-**_

Chloe tapped her foot against the floor of the elevator as it slowly made its long climb to the top of the building. Her fingers anxiously toyed with her flash drive, sliding the port in and out of its protective case in time with her fidgeting, each click filling the small space as her toes bounced off the floor. "C'mon, c'mon," she chanted. When the car finally came to a stop, she pushed the door open and ducked under it before it reached the top. "Oliver!"

Her eyes scanned the clock tower apartment frantically, a mild panic gripping her. Why wasn't he here? She'd sent him so many texts that his phone was probably still trying to process them all, but he had said he'd be waiting. "Oliver!" She turned as a hissing sound filled the apartment, relief washing over her face as the wall panel slid open. "Thank God you're here. What happened to you?"

"Oh, this?" Oliver looked down at his shredded costume and the bloody towel pressed to his abdomen. "I came across one of those Zoners Clark's hunting and y'know, he failed to mention that some of them are a little...volatile. Call me crazy, but when Clark Kent, of all people, asks for help, I expect him to be there to help. Where was he anyway? I must've sent him a dozen S.O.S. messages before that thing knew I was tailing it."

"Clark's in jail."

He gave a short laugh, but stopped with a wince, his face falling as he noticed Chloe's unchanged expression. "Wait; you're serious? Jail? What he do; help an old lady across the wrong street?"

"He tried to use Jason Teague to knock down a pillar in the Talon."

"Whoa, now slow down, Sidekick. Jason Teague? You do know he's dead, right?"

"That doesn't mean much in Smallville, Oliver. I'll grant the possibility that this might just be a look-alike, but if not, we've got another problem on our lengthy list."

"And we're going to need our big guns as it is. Alright, let me change into something less conspicuous and bloodstained, and then we'll go spring the Boyscout from jail. Oh, and I'm fine, by the way."

"Never doubted it."

_**January 20, 2006**_

_**-Lowell County Detention Center-**_

_** -2302 Hours-**_

Sam jerked awake, raising his head from his arms. His head pivoted wildly, trying to place where he was, and he calmed as he took in the iron bars and Dean's sleeping form propped up against the opposite wall. "Damn nightmares," he hissed, rubbing his eyes. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, knowing what horrors would claim his unconsciousness as their playground, but his body was exhausted. Sure enough, he had slipped into slumber and dreamt of Jessica's death. It was a constant loop in his subconscious, only this time it had been different.

Like before, he had opened his eyes to see her pinned on the ceiling, blood dripping down to speckle his face. He'd screamed when flames erupted around her, swallowing her even as he willed it to be a bad dream. Her eyes were the last to disappear into the consuming fire and when they vanished from sight, the nightmare changed.

Fire still bore down on him, but now he was running, churning through a barren field, his terror rasping in his lungs. He had skidded to a halt as a flaming mass crashed down in his path, falling to the ground, pinned under a weight he couldn't identify. The world had shaken around him, crumbling to pieces, beyond his control.

He shuddered, rubbing his arms vigorously. He had roused himself before reaching the end, but it felt as real as a memory. Maybe Dean had been right; something was going to happen in Smallville, something he had to stop. Raking his fingers through his hair, he stood up shakily, moving to wake his brother. He paused as the sound of a helicopter echoed faintly from beyond the walls. "Oh, that can't be good," he grumbled, shaking Dean awake.

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It didn't take long for the chopper noise to grow louder and then fade into an eerily deep silence. Moments later, keys jangled and footsteps rang against the cool concrete between the cells. Both Winchesters stood close to the bars, tensed with a wary uneasiness, trying to get a look at who was coming, certain that shackles waited for them. "Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, betraying his fear that was hidden behind his calm façade. Each approaching footfall seemed to grow louder as they drew nearer. Time dragged between them, fueling the tension that wound the brothers tighter, pushing them closer to that moment when they would snap and be useless to themselves and each other. That breaking point loomed larger and larger, and then suddenly deflated as a cheerful voice called down the cell block.

"Clark, Clark, Clark, look what you've gotten yourself into."

"Oliver?"

Dean released a sigh of relief. "Hey, looks like farm boy's got a visitor," he jeered, elbowing Sam in the ribs as a tall man strolled by, the sheriff acting as his shadow. The younger Winchester just frowned, watching every move.

"A powerful one," he mused. "Dean, that's Oliver Queen."

Dean returned to his spot against the wall. "That supposed to mean something?"

"He's one of the richest men in the world."

That earned a low whistle. "Well, that explains the eleven o'clock visiting hours. How d'you suppose Kent got a friend like that?"

"I don't know; maybe they're in the same knitting class. Would you shut it? I'm trying to hear."

Dean punched his brother in the arm, but remained quiet as he too stood by the bars, straining his ears to hear the conversation at the other end of the jail.

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"So what's his bail, Sheriff?"

"Well, now, that is a tricky question, Mr. Queen. This isn't Mr. Kent's first assault, though considering the danger Mr. Teague, who that man isn't, by the way," Sheriff Adams nodded down the cell block and continued, "presented to his family before his death, I can understand the overreaction."

Clark interrupted. "You mean that guy's not Jason? He looks just like him; even talks the same way."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Kent, his prints don't match. And as for your question, Mr. Queen, it really depends on if that gentleman down there feels like pressing charges. Might have to wait for a judge to set the amount."

"I'm cool with it!" Dean shouted from his end of the cell block, smirking as a sigh slipped through Sam's lips. "Not the first time I've been hit for something I didn't do."

"And makes up for a few of the times you weren't hit for someone you did do," Sam whispered.

"Bite me," Dean hissed back. Now there was just one thing to find out before both brothers regained their cheer. "So, Sheriff; can we get out of here? I'm starving and, no offense, the food here sucks."

The sheriff gave a tight smile, turning the key of Clark's cell before moving to theirs. "Just so long as you two get out of town. You may not be Jason Teague, but I don't need you stirring up more trouble than I've already got."

That statement caught both brother's attention, settling a serious aura over both of them. "Yes, ma'am," Dean assured, lying through his teeth. Between that, Sam's vague recognition of the town, and the way his brother had been muttering in his sleep a few minutes ago, there was no way Dean was leaving without a thorough investigation. From the determined set of Sam's face, he knew the younger Winchester agreed. Something was definitely going down in Smallville.

"Good." The sheriff turned the key and pushed their door open. "Then you're free to go."

Sam and Dean stepped out into the walkway, pausing as Oliver led Clark past them, his hand placed on his shoulder almost in restraint. They had been muttering lowly, but fell silent until they were well past the Winchesters and the sheriff. Before they disappeared from sight through the steel doors, Sam turned an inquisitive gaze on them. He wondered what it was that was gnawing on his mind. For a split second, Clark cast a suspicious glare over his shoulder and Sam could have sworn he'd met the younger man sometime in the distant past. A hazy memory tried to rise in his mind, but before he could grab it, the two men were gone and he was left with a deepened confusion. Sighing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, anxious to get to whatever hotel they would be setting up shop in. Suddenly, he wanted sleep.

_**Author's Note: Blegh. I hate this chapter, but it kinda pokes the plot (whatever that may be) along. I think I've got it almost hammered out. Or at least a vague idea of it , it's got Oliver and Dean being all fidgety and paranoid. And, honestly, who doesn't love that? *Submits **_**Yellow Fever**_** as evidence* Defense rests. Anywho; please read and review.**_


	4. HIATUS

Due to the last update being God-knows-when, this story is being put on an indefinite hiatus until which point I have revisited and revamped my plot. I will post another update at that time with pertinent information to the renewed story.

Sorry for any inconvenience, but rest assured that this has not been abandoned. I simply feel I have matured as a writer since this was started and that you all deserve something better.

Much love and appreciation,

Kagirinai


End file.
